


It's Too Late

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: When She Leaves [3]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Colorado is nice. For two weeks. Alicia never likes to stay in any one place for too long, and even Colorado starts to get on her nerves. So they pack up, and they get back on the road.Direct sequel to I'll Be Gone. Final installment in the series.
Relationships: Alicia Clark & Luciana Galvez, Alicia Clark & Victor Strand, Alicia Clark/Wes, Althea & Alicia Clark, Althea/Isabelle (Fear the Walking Dead), Charlie & Alicia Clark
Series: When She Leaves [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698085
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	It's Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my 30th FTWD fic, which is totally wild. Makes me question what I'm doing with my life lol. Anyway, this picks up where I'll Be Gone left off and moves forward from there.

Colorado is nice. For two weeks. Alicia never likes to stay in any one place for too long, and even Colorado starts to get on her nerves. So they pack up, and they get back on the road.

“Where to?” Strand asks. Alicia swears his hair gets grayer by the day. She tries not to look at her own reflection any more. Alicia isn’t interested in seeing herself age. She probably should’ve been dead a long time ago.

“I don’t know,” Alicia replies from the backseat. “East or west?”

Strand, Luci, and Charlie all look to Alicia. She’s been making these kinds of decisions for a while. Hell, she’s the one that decided to leave Colorado rather than to find a place and hunker down.

“Okay,” Alicia mutters. “Let’s just keep moving west, then.”

“No destinations in mind?” Charlie questions. “No states you’ve been dying to see?”

Alicia sighs. “You know, I don’t really care where we end up anymore.”

She’s thirty, and her life feels complete far too soon.

*

_“I wish it could be different.”_

Alicia only dares to play the one piece she has left of Al when everyone else is asleep, when it’s her turn to be on watch. It never gets any easier, seeing Al’s face on the small screen of the camera she’d found months ago. It never gets any easier, watching Al get progressively more emotional as the tape wears on, as she speaks the same words. Obviously the tape never changes, never offers Alicia any hope.

She needs to find a way to pick herself up and put herself back together, because no one else is going to do it.

*

Utah is empty, and so is Idaho. Not literally empty, but Alicia barely remembers the time they spend in those two states.

“I’ve never been to California,” Charlie says one night over dinner. Alicia’s body goes stiff, and she nearly drops her fork, but she manages to catch it before it hits the ground. “What?” Charlie says.

“We aren’t setting foot in California,” Alicia says. “I won’t do it.”

“I agree,” Strand says quietly. “Too many…bad memories.”

“Oregon?” Charlie suggests.

“I’ve never seen Oregon,” Alicia says, flashing Charlie a gentle smile.

“Oregon it is,” Strand agrees.

“Oregon might be nice,” Luci says. “There might be some nice…buildings.” It seems like every new state they visit, Luci tries to hint that they should seriously consider settling down. And Alicia knows this is meant to be a hint, because Luci quickly averts her gaze when Alicia’s eyes shift over to her.

“I want to see the ocean,” Charlie declares.

“We’ll make it happen,” Alicia promises.

*

Alicia kills six walkers then washes the blood off her hands in the Pacific Ocean. She inhales deeply, staring off at the endless body of water, and she tries to enjoy the light breeze. She tries not to think about Iowa, or about Texas, or even California for that matter. She tries to enjoy the moment.

“I’m going in!” Charlie yells. A smile flickers on Alicia’s face as Charlie goes running into the ocean, not bothering to remove her sneakers or jeans or shirt. Luci doubles over with laughter as Charlie screeches about how the water’s cold.

Alicia should be happy. Can’t quite explain to herself why she’s not.

*

“It could use some work,” Strand points out.

“Perfect,” Alicia says. She exchanges a smile with Strand and winks at Charlie. “We’ll make it our own. I was quite handy around the stadium, you know.”

“Just don’t bring this place crashing down on our heads,” Luci warns.

“I meant, like, we’ll paint it,” Alicia laughs. “I’m not going to knock down any walls. Maybe we could go steal a _Welcome to Oregon_ sign and hang it up in the basement.”

“Yes!” Charlie exclaims.

“Before we steal any signs, we need to start thinking about what kind of food we’re going to grow for ourselves,” Luci says. “If we’re going to be staying in one area for a while.”

Alicia shrugs. They can always leave. There’s nothing forcing them to stay in this house, or in Oregon for that matter. As far as Alicia’s concerned, if they run out of food, they can just walk away. She doesn’t say this, doesn’t want to crush her friends’ dreams of staying in one spot and building a home, but when Alicia meets Strand’s eyes, she knows he’s thinking the same thing: _this place doesn’t have to be forever_.

“Come on,” Alicia says, nudging Charlie’s arm with the back of her hand. “Let’s go fight over bedrooms.”

*

A month passes. Two. Three. Their crops grow, and Alicia gets the whole house painted. Strand puts up a fence surrounding the perimeter of what they’ve decided is officially their property. Alicia goes and steals a _Welcome to Oregon_ sign for Charlie’s nineteenth birthday, and Strand elegantly nails it into the wall in the basement. They pop a bottle of champagne and let Charlie have some, because nineteen is close enough, right? Besides, it’s a special occasion.

“Are you too old for games now?” Alicia teases.

“Depends on what you want to play,” Charlie replies.

“Pick something.”

Charlie goes to rummage through their rather extensive game collection. Alicia expects Charlie to come back with a deck of cards, not with their beat up game of Scrabble. Alicia’s eyebrows raise, but she’s not going to question Charlie on her birthday.

“If I win, I get another glass of champagne,” Charlie bargains.

“You can have another glass whether you win or not,” Alicia snorts. She downs the rest of her own glass then adds, “I’m going to lose. I’m not sure I remember how to spell anymore.”

*

They don’t see many people out this way. Not even when they make runs into the surrounding towns. There’s the occasional walker, sure. Walkers are practically inescapable. But when Alicia and Luci return to their favorite spot to collect supplies, they pass something odd. Something that wasn’t there a few weeks ago, and it looks relatively fresh.

“Hey, stop for a second, will you?” Alicia says. Luci brings the truck to a stop, about to ask why, before her eyes land on the tree.

“Why would someone do that?” Luci asks.

Alicia can’t tear her eyes away from the painting. “Hell if I know.”

_If you’re reading this, you’re still here_

“So there are other people out here,” Luci says, gripping onto the steering wheel a little tighter.

“I guess so. We’ll just have to be extra careful when we make runs from now on.”

They stock up on ammunition from the little gun shop they hadn’t bothered to check before. The town is quiet, but it’s an eerie kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that manages to raise the hairs on Alicia’s arms. They rush back to their home that day, and Alicia struggles to sleep that night.

She can’t get that tree out of her mind.

*

She’s cleaning out her room one day when she finds it. The tape. The last thing she has left of Al, apart from the little note with her handwriting on it. Alicia completely forgot she’d buried it in a drawer beneath a pile of shirts. Alicia hesitates when she lays eyes on it. Her hand trembles when she reaches for it, but she can’t bring herself to touch it. It’s been months – maybe even a year? – since she last watched it. Since she last felt the need to watch it.

She leaves it there, though she doesn’t really need the tape. It’s burned into her memory, every second.

*

She almost shoots him the first time they meet. The trees have been popping up more and more along their route into town, and Alicia’s starting to feel like they’re being watched. It’s a total accident that she even catches him painting one of the trees, and she startles the hell out of him, causing him to drop his paintbrush into the grass. As the brush falls, it splatters blue paint against the man’s jeans.

“Who are you?” Alicia demands. She keeps her Glock aimed at his head, finger braced on the trigger. She hasn’t seen anyone alive apart from Luci, Strand, and Charlie for maybe over a year, now. Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat as she waits for the man to answer her.

“I, uh – my name is Wes,” he says weakly. He holds both his hands up in the air. “I’m not armed,” he informs. “I mean, apart from my knife. I didn’t think there was anyone out here. I won’t hurt you.”

She doesn’t trust him. Not at all. So she doesn’t lower the Glock, but she does take her finger off the trigger.

“What are you doing?” Alicia asks.

“Painting?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Okay, but _why_?”

Wes grins. “You didn’t ask why.”

Maybe she’ll shoot him just for being annoying. “What’s the point?”

He shrugs. “What’s the point of anything anymore? Might as well spend your time doing something you enjoy, right?”

Alicia falters. Maybe she’ll regret it, but she lowers her gun.

*

Strand and Luci don’t trust Wes at all. Alicia barely trusts him, but he’s out there alone, and he never presents himself as a threat. Charlie takes to him immediately and insists he joins them in playing poker on his first night at the house.

“If he kills us all, it’s on you,” Strand says to Alicia later that night, after Luci, Charlie, and Wes have all disappeared into their rooms.

“He has no good reason to kill us,” Alicia dismisses. “If he wanted to kill people, he wouldn’t be out in the middle of nowhere painting trees.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident,” Strand replies.

Alicia hesitates. “I’ll sit up,” she decides. She motions toward the couch in their living room. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything, you know?”

“Probably a smart idea.”

*

Wes does not try anything that first night. Or the next night. Or any night, really. He merges right into their lives like he’d always been there to begin with. He paints them a mural in the basement, on the wall opposite of their _Welcome to Oregon_ sign. He helps Luci with the crops, helps with dinner even when it’s not his night to cook, and he never seems to get tired of entertaining Charlie – whether it’s playing games or seeing who can sprint to the other end of the property and back the fastest or giving her pointers on her own paintings.

The months start flying, and Alicia doesn’t care to calculate how much time has passed on the night that Wes waits up with her until everyone else goes to bed. Alicia’s normally the last person up anyway, doing the final perimeter check and making sure all the doors and windows on the ground floor are closed and locked. She normally sits on the couch and reads by candlelight until she’s too tired to stay up any longer, sometimes until she falls asleep right there on the couch.

“Hey, um,” Wes says after Alicia returns inside after finishing the perimeter check. “Look, I don’t want to make anything weird between us. I really enjoy living here, but I can’t just – anyway, would you maybe want to go on a date with me? I’ll plan something, obviously, but if you don’t want to, it’s totally cool. We can just pretend this never happened.”

Alicia doesn’t realize she’s smiling. She surprises herself when she says yes.

*

She can’t catch a break. Maybe she’ll never catch a break. All of the shit that had to align to lead to _this_ moment –

Just for starters, she had to be in _this_ town on _this_ day at _this_ time in _this_ precise location to even –

The MRAP rolls into Alicia’s little town in rural Oregon, and she wants to scream. She’s thirty four. She has her fair share of gray hairs now, too, as much as she still teases Strand about his. And she’s in town with her boyfriend, searching for new reading material for herself and Strand and new records for Luci and more paint for Wes and Charlie, when _it_ rolls in, loud as hell, unmistakable.

“What?” Wes questions when he sees Alicia’s face drain of its color. “What’s wrong – oh _shit_. I’ll get the gun from the –”

Alicia grabs his arm, stops him from leaving the bookstore. “Not necessary,” she barely manages to whisper.

“What? Those are _people_ –”

“I know them.”

“You _know_ them?” Wes says. “ _What_? How?”

Alicia winces. “It’s a long story. But…okay, yeah. Get the guns. I’ll go – I guess I’ll go talk to them. Just – stay with the truck. Please.”

Wes nods, and Alicia tears her eyes away from his concerned gaze. She swallows hard, wishes Luci was here with them. Luci’s much better at these sorts of situations than Alicia ever has been. Alicia approaches the van at a steady pace, even though she wants to turn and bolt back to the truck, speed off and never look back. Her hands tremble, so she curls them into fists at her sides.

Isabelle steps out of the van first. Her hair is a lot longer than it was when Alicia saw her – what? _Four_ years ago? Already? Isabelle’s hair is twisted into a messy bun, and she’s wearing a bright red hoodie with a faded brand name across the chest. Her black jeans have rips in the knees, and she’s wearing sneakers instead of boots. She’s got a sort of laidback look that only living in a tank could give you.

“Alicia?” Isabelle says in disbelief. “Is that – oh my _God_ , I can’t believe it’s _you_.”

Alicia’s smile is strained. “I can’t believe it’s you,” Alicia parrots. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Alicia’s aware of Al leaving the van, too, but she’s afraid to look in Al’s direction. She keeps her eyes firmly trained on Isabelle’s face as Isabelle gets closer. Sunlight glints off of Isabelle’s left hand, and it doesn’t escape Alicia’s notice, but she also doesn’t want a closer look.

“Iowa got boring,” Isabelle answers with a nonchalant shrug. “We started exploring the country. Saw some interesting shit, actually. How have you been?”

“Great,” Alicia answers. She doesn’t avoid the incoming hug, but it’s mostly okay. She’s used to hugging people, at least, and she gets her arms around Isabelle’s lower back in a timely manner. “We’ve settled down out here,” Alicia says. “We have our own farm, basically.”

Alicia can sense Wes’s presence, no longer over at the truck, but slowly creeping up behind her. She didn’t really expect him to stay with the truck. She knows he feels responsible for her safety, just like she feels responsible for his. Alicia steps back from the embrace, clears her throat, and looks over her shoulder as Wes joins them with Alicia’s Glock visibly shoved into the side of his waistband. Wordlessly, he pulls it free and holds it out to Alicia when he reaches her side.

“Here, babe,” he says. Alicia nods and accepts the gun, tucks it into the pocket inside her leather jacket. Isabelle’s eyebrows raise, and she looks to Al as Al finally joins the party.

“This is Wes,” Alicia introduces, touching her fingertips to his arm. She still hasn’t looked at Al, still doesn’t seem to be able to force herself to do that yet. “My boyfriend,” she adds.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. He offers Isabelle his hand, and she shakes it without any sort of hesitation.

“I’m Isabelle,” she says. “And this is my wife, Al.”

_Wife_. Alicia swallows hard, as if that’s something she couldn’t have guessed based on the giant rock on Isabelle’s left hand. Wes shakes Al’s hand, and Alicia checks out momentarily as her entire body feels numb. She jolts back into awareness as Wes’s hand lands at her lower back, and her eyes, more as an accident than anything else, finally reach Al’s face.

The scar is still a shock, though it’s a lot more faded than the last time they met. The one streak of gray Alicia remembers Al had from their little stint in Iowa has turned into multiple streaks of gray. Al’s flannel shirt is red, and Alicia only consciously notices because it’s almost the same shade of red as Isabelle’s hoodie. It’s sort of jarring. Alicia doesn’t think anyone in their household owns any red clothing at all. They tend to stick to grays and blacks and the occasional dark blue or green or purple.

Alicia flinches when her eyes meet Al’s, and Alicia immediately looks down, catches sight of the ring on Al’s hand. It’s a simple band, a shiny black – maybe onyx? – completely unlike the diamond on Isabelle’s finger.

It’s been four years. What did Alicia expect?

She expected never to see Al again, and she’d even accepted it, after a while, but here they are, _again_.

“So you’re all old friends or something?” Wes questions.

“Something like that,” Alicia answers before Al has the chance to speak. “Al and I knew each other a long time ago.”

Alicia likes to think maybe her words sting, and maybe they do. Al’s jaw clenches, but her lips still twist into a smile. Alicia needs to find a way out of this situation, and she _really_ needs to find a way to communicate to Wes that they have to leave – and leave without doing something stupid, like, oh, say _inviting Al and Isabelle to their place_. Alicia can read his mind. She feels lightheaded before the words even leave his lips.

“Well, we have an open room,” Wes says, and if Alicia completely lacked social skills, she’d be screaming at him to stop. “You should spend a night with us. Luci and I are planning on making this _amazing_ dinner.”

“You sure?” Al questions. “We wouldn’t want to…impose.”

Alicia grasps onto a fistful of Wes’s shirt at his lower back, mostly to keep herself upright. He doesn’t seem to notice, dropping his arm around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all,” he assures them. “There’s plenty of room.”

“I’d kill to sleep on a real bed again,” Isabelle admits.

“I guess one night wouldn’t hurt,” Al agrees.

Wes grins. “Just follow us back, then.”

*

“Why would you _do_ that?” Alicia cries the second the door to the truck slams shut.

“What?” Wes says defensively. “Why would I invite your _friends_ back to our place? Why wouldn’t I?”

“They aren’t my friends!”

“It sure as hell seemed like they’re your friends!” Wes counters. “You hugged Isabelle right away, and you said –”

“I know what I _said_ , and I know what I did, but that doesn’t make us –” Alicia stops herself, takes a deep breath. She can’t remember a time she’s ever fought with Wes. They don’t even really argue, not in any serious way. “It’s hard to explain,” Alicia says. “And it all happened a long time ago, but I was _finally_ moving forward, and now I –” Her voice breaks, and Alicia shakes her head instead of continuing, brushes Wes’s hand aside when he reaches out for her. “Just forget it.”

“No, I –”

“It’s too late,” Alicia cuts in. “They’ve already been invited. I just have to make it through the night.”

*

Luci cries. Literally cries when she hugs Al the second that Al steps into the house. Wes and Alicia help carry Al and Isabelle's two overnight bags into the house, but Wes takes Isabelle’s bag from Alicia and carries them up to the guest room on his own, leaving Alicia to linger awkwardly in the living room with everyone else. She doesn’t know what to do when she receives an incredibly confused look from Strand. She’s confused, too. Dumbfounded. She doesn’t know what to think, or feel, or do.

Charlie remembers Al and Isabelle. That wasn’t too long ago. But there still isn’t a connection to her childhood, to the factory or before then.

“So how old are you now, kid?” Al asks good-naturedly once things start to settle down, once Wes is back in the room.

“I turned twenty two a couple months ago,” Charlie answers easily.

“ _Twenty two_?” Al exclaims. “Jesus Christ, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

They’d met ten years ago, Al and Charlie. Which means Alicia met Al ten years ago, too. Alicia doesn’t know what to do with this information when it finally hits her, but it makes her feel even more uncomfortable.

“You guys have really transformed this place,” Isabelle comments. Her eyes dance around the room, from the paintings hanging on the walls, to the fire burning in the fireplace, to the furniture. “You’d never know the world was ending out there.”

“We’ve been here a while,” Alicia says quietly. “There’s been plenty of time to paint and find new furniture and –”

“Clean,” Strand finishes for her.

“Oh my God,” Charlie says excitedly, literally bouncing. “You have to see our basement!” As they’re heading down the stairs, Alicia hears Charlie say, “Alicia stole a _Welcome to Oregon_ sign for my birthday once!”

Alicia stays in the living room with Wes as Charlie leads Isabelle and Al into the basement, followed by Luci and Strand. They seem to notice that Alicia needs a moment.

“What’s going on?” Wes murmurs.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alicia admits. “I don’t know how to be around them, Wes.”

“What do you mean?”

Alicia sighs, glances toward the basement to make sure everyone’s out of sight. “I mean, I was in love with Al for _years_ , and now – I don’t need it all to come rushing back, Wes. I’m finally happy, and that’s _exactly_ when Al shows up again. Just to ruin it all, I’m sure.”

Wes grasps onto Alicia’s shoulders, waits until she looks him in the eye. “You’ll continue to be happy, Alicia,” he promises. “Nothing’s going to change, okay? It’s one night.”

*

Dinner is a very lively affair. There’s conversation – plenty to catch up on – and laughter and good food. If anyone notices how quiet Alicia is throughout the whole thing, no one bothers to bring it up. Wes definitely notices, but he’s equally as quiet unless he’s asked about his paintings.

But everything goes smoothly. Charlie, Luci, Isabelle, and Al all play a game afterwards, and Alicia thinks she can make it through this without having any lasting emotional damage inflicted upon her. The night winds down.

“I’m gonna do the perimeter check,” Alicia announces. Unbeknownst to her, behind her, Al’s just stepping off the last step. Apparently she only went upstairs to change into a white T-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“I’ll come with you,” Al says. And, well, Alicia can’t think of a polite way to say _no way in hell_.

“Be safe,” Wes says, like he usually does, and he kisses Alicia, like he usually does.

“Always am,” Alicia replies automatically. She grabs her Glock, butterfly knife, and a flashlight before heading out the back door, expecting Al to follow. And she does. Alicia sweeps the flashlight around the back of the house, which is mostly just their crops. Nothing in sight, like usual. Once in a while a walker will show up, but it’s quiet. They stroll along the fence as Alicia goes about her usual routine.

“So,” Al finally says when Alicia doesn’t break the silence first. “How’ve you been?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“Right.”

“You got married,” Alicia says offhandedly. She turns the flashlight toward Al, aims it in the general area that her left hand should occupy. Al fidgets, and Alicia takes a little satisfaction from that.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that,” Al says. “It’s not like there was a ceremony or anything.”

“It’s not like it really matters if there is anymore,” Alicia points out. “And there’s no government to hand out marriage licenses anymore, either.”

Al cracks a smile. Alicia doesn’t miss the way Al tucks her left hand into her pocket, though, concealing it from view. “Then yeah. I got married.”

“Congratulations.”

A curious look crosses Al’s face, but she just says, “Thanks. You’ve, uh, got someone yourself now, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Al nods. Maybe she figures that’s all the information she’ll get out of Alicia about Wes. “That’s good.”

“Yep.”

“It looks like you’ve built a nice life out here.”

Alicia stops walking, and Al comes to a halt, too. “I have,” Alicia snaps. “And everything was going great, but _of course_ you just _had_ to show up, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were out here,” Al argues. “It was a total fluke. A one in a million chance, maybe, but I didn’t orchestrate this.”

Alicia sighs heavily. “Of course not.”

“I figured you wouldn’t be happy to see me if our paths ever crossed again,” Al confesses.

“You went to the trouble of making that tape,” Alicia says, “but you didn’t say anything worthwhile on it. It wasn’t anything close to a declaration of love. Just a bunch of regrets about a bunch of things you can’t change, right?”

“So you found a way to watch it.”

Alicia snorts. “Of course I did. How could I not?” She shakes her head. “Just a bunch of regrets,” she mutters, mostly to herself. She starts walking again, and Al follows. Alicia stops at the back of the property, shines the flashlight out past the fence, toward where the lake is. The water is calm. Nothing’s out of order, and they continue their walk.

“I’m sorry,” Al says.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for anymore.”

“Okay.” Al pauses. “Wes seems nice.”

“I don’t think we should talk about my boyfriend.”

“Right.”

Alicia inhales sharply. “Did you ever tell Isabelle about what I did? Right before we took off? Did you ever tell her?”

It takes Al a moment to determine what exactly Alicia’s talking about. “You mean – did I ever tell her you kissed me?”

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “And that you kissed me back.”

Al’s silent for a while, but Alicia doesn’t push her. Alicia knows Al will give her an answer eventually. They reach the front of the fence, and Alicia closes and locks the gate behind them as they check the front yard and the road. If there are any walkers, they’re usually out here.

“I did,” Al finally says. “I told her.”

“She still married you, so I guess it wasn’t that big a deal, huh?”

“Except it was,” Al shoots. “She barely spoke to me for three days. She slept in the front of the van by herself for weeks. And I couldn’t blame her. But I also couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell her that it happened.”

“She didn’t leave.”

“She forgave me.”

“She married you,” Alicia says, and she tries not to sound bitter.

“Eight months ago,” Al informs. “It took over a year to rebuild our relationship – to rebuild the trust that was there before you showed up in Iowa.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not really your fault, though, is it?” Al questions. “If I would’ve pushed you away, there would’ve been no problem.”

“I knew you were with Isabelle, and even if I thought – whatever my reasoning might’ve been, it was still wrong of me to do that.”

“It’s been four years,” Al says. Alicia shines the flashlight up the road, and while Alicia stares up the road, Al stares at her. “Might as well be ancient history by now.”

*

Alicia leads the way back inside and locks up the house as usual. It seems as if everyone else is already upstairs. Al waits for Alicia to double check all the windows and doors, to put the flashlight back in its place. Alicia always takes the Glock and butterfly knife to bed with her.

“You don’t have to wait to walk me up,” Alicia tells Al.

“I don’t mind.”

Alicia nods, checks the last few windows. “Alright, well, I think that’s about it. We can head up.”

“Alicia.”

“Hmm?”

Al waits until Alicia dares to meet her gaze. “We’re never going to be able to be friends, are we?”

Alicia balks, expecting anything but a question like that. “I – honestly, Al, I have no idea how to answer that question.”

“I don’t think you really have to.”

Alicia catches Al’s wrist as she turns to head for the stairs, and Al freezes. Before Al can say anything, Alicia hugs her before she loses her nerve, to make up for only hugging Isabelle when they’d first reunited in town. Thankfully, Al doesn’t question Alicia, just wraps her arms loosely around Alicia’s upper back. Alicia squeezes her eyes shut, willing away tears, and she wishes she could think of something to say.

But words have never really been Alicia’s strength.

*

“But you don’t have to leave!”

Charlie’s voice carries from the kitchen and up the stairs easily. She practically yells it. Alicia has no issue hearing that one sliver of whatever conversation is happening downstairs, even though she’s still up in her bedroom. Alicia pauses with her jeans pulled halfway up her legs, straining to hear anything else that’s going on. But no one else is yelling apart from the one outburst, and Alicia’s not going to hear anything more through a closed door. She hurries to finish getting dressed and heads downstairs to find everyone else gathered in the kitchen. It goes silent when she walks in.

“What’s going on?” Alicia questions. “I heard yelling.”

“Tell them not to leave!” Charlie blurts before either Al or Isabelle can explain.

Alicia’s grateful when Strand says, “We can’t force them to stay.”

Charlie turns her desperate, puppy-dog eyes on Alicia. Alicia sure as hell won’t be begging Al and Isabelle to stay if they want to go. Even though spending one day around Al and Isabelle was surprisingly manageable, Alicia really isn’t looking to push her luck any further.

“We appreciate that you let us stay for a night,” Isabelle says. “We really don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

Charlie pouts, and Alicia wonders what’s changed, apart from their entire way of life. When they stayed with Al and Isabelle out in Iowa four years ago, Charlie couldn’t care less if they stayed or left, wasn’t attached to Al or Isabelle. It occurs to Alicia that she, Strand, Luci, and Wes are the only people Charlie has been around for years now. Al and Isabelle are new, and they’ve seen much more of the world. Charlie’s basically been locked in a bubble.

“I, um,” Alicia says, rubbing at the back of her neck. She’s going to regret this, but Charlie looks so desperate, and even Luci looks disappointed. “Don’t feel like you have to go right away,” Alicia says. She catches Wes’s look of surprise out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t dare to meet his gaze. Luci’s equally as shocked, and Strand doesn’t bother to hide his smirk.

“You sure?” Al asks.

“Yeah,” Alicia sighs. “There’s…no rush. Plenty of space, plenty of food.”

Al and Isabelle exchange a look, and apparently that’s enough for Isabelle to say, “Alright, then we can stay for now. We’ll just have to move a few more things in from the van.”

“Need a hand?” Wes offers.

As Wes and Charlie follow after Al and Isabelle to help unload the van, Luci and Strand descend upon Alicia.

“Are you okay?” Luci asks first. She presses the back of her hand to Alicia’s forehead. “Do you have a fever, or have you just suddenly undergone a massive shift in personality?”

“It’s been four years,” Alicia says weakly. “Maybe I should stop holding a grudge?”

Strand scoffs. “That’s so unlike you.”

“I said they could stay a little longer!” Alicia snaps. “It’s not like I said they can move in.”

*

“Got a minute?”

“Something wrong?” Alicia asks.

Al shakes her head. “Just, uh…have a question.”

Alicia nods and stands from the couch, pulling away from Wes. She follows Al into the dining room, away from everyone else in the living room. Al keeps her voice low, as if it matters if anyone else hears them.

“Look, I know you let us stay for Charlie’s sake,” Al says, “so whenever you want us out of here, just say the word and we’ll go, okay?”

Alicia blinks. “I – yeah, okay, but seriously, it’s fine.”

Al’s eyebrows pull together. “You’re sure?”

“You don’t have to rush out of here just because of me,” Alicia says, maybe a little reluctantly. Al has been out of her life way longer than she’s been in it. And Alicia has recently learned that she can do more than just survive without Al – she can live. Quite happily, in fact. Alicia doesn’t say this, though she does contemplate it. “But if you’re going to stay, start pulling your weight,” Alicia says. She smiles slightly and motions back toward the living room. “Have fun entertaining Charlie.”

*

“You mind?”

“Not at all,” Alicia answers. She holds the door open, and once again, Al joins her for a second time in order to do the nightly perimeter check. “I need you to answer a question, though. Two questions, actually.”

“Shoot,” Al says. She tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and waits.

“You ever finish that documentary?”

“ _Finish_ isn’t the right word,” Al says, smiling sheepishly. “I’m still playing around with it. Have been for years. It’s a hard thing to finish give our limited technological abilities.”

“Right.”

“We can watch some of it,” Al offers. “If you want.”

Alicia nods. “Maybe.”

“What’s your other question?”

“Do you want to stay here?” Alicia asks. “Or does Isabelle? Or are you both just dying to leave and you’re only trying to be polite?”

Al laughs and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s got nothing to do with being polite,” Al assures her. “We’d leave if we didn’t want to be here.”

“Then what’s this about?”

Al sighs heavily. They both jump at the sound of a nearby growl, but the walker is held back by the fence, and Alicia makes quick work of it. The body drops to the ground on the other side of the fence, and Alicia tells herself that Strand can haul it away in the morning.

“It’s just been me and Isabelle for a long time,” Al says. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s great, but –”

“Spending all your time with just one person can be rough. I get it,” Alicia says.

“We don’t have anyone else,” Al admits. “Isabelle’s family has been dead at least as long as mine. The group she was with before me – everyone else was dead by the time she met me. And you guys…you’re the only people I have left from my life before Isabelle.”

Alicia nods, swallows hard. “What about John and June?”

Al huffs. “We returned to Texas, you know. Looked for them – _found_ them.”

“And?” Alicia questions. “You didn’t want to stay with them?”

Al shakes her head. “I don’t think they were looking for company.”

“But it’s June –”

“It’d been eight years since I’d last seen them,” Al dismisses. “The factory fell after I’d left, and John and June went and built their own life. We’re different people now. It happens.”

“So you didn’t stay?”

“Didn’t want to impose on them,” Al grunts. “I knew June wouldn’t ask me to leave, but I could tell she wanted me to.”

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

Alicia inhales deeply. They head out onto the front lawn to finish the perimeter check. “You don’t have to leave,” Alicia says. “So don’t – don’t feel like we don’t want you here.”

“We?”

“No one here has a problem with you or Isabelle,” Alicia says. “And I – maybe I treated you unfairly the last time we saw each other. In Iowa. And I definitely did and said things I shouldn’t have. If you want to be here, if you want to stay with us – then you can join our strange little family, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“But there has to be a line,” Alicia adds quickly. “I don’t – I can’t go back to how I felt four years ago. I was happy before you showed up here. I want to stay happy.”

Al holds her hand out. “I won’t meddle with your life. Got it.”

Alicia rolls her eyes but shakes Al’s hand. “I won’t meddle with yours, either.”

*

Two days turns into two weeks, and they all settle into an odd kind of routine. Slowly but surely, more of Al and Isabelle’s belongings from the van get moved into the house. Even Al’s tapes and camera. It’s in that second week that Alicia gets an idea, halfway through washing the dishes after dinner.

“Al,” Alicia calls. “Come here a second?”

Al joins Alicia at the sink, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“I doubt I even have to ask if you have any of the interviews Charlie gave when she was twelve,” Alicia says.

“Of course I have them,” Al says, leaning back against the counter. She glances over toward Charlie, sitting at the table with Wes and Isabelle as they all splatter paint onto a canvas, making some abstract-looking color explosion. “Real question is,” Al continues, “should Charlie see them?”

“She barely remembers the factory,” Alicia says. “Or anything before it.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe we should at least offer her the chance to see them,” Alicia suggests. “And if she doesn’t want to know, then that’s up to her. She’s an adult now. She can decide.”

Al nods. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

*

“I thought you had a problem with them,” Wes says while they’re in bed that night. “You seemed freaked out when we first ran into Al and Isabelle.”

“I was freaked out.”

“And?”

Alicia grunts. “I guess I got over it.”

“How?”

“I’m happy,” Alicia tells him. “And they haven’t ruined that the way I assumed they would. I can’t explain it, but I guess I was just afraid of something that ended up not happening.”

“You thought your feelings for Al would return?” Wes guesses.

Alicia hesitates. “I was afraid that would happen, yes,” she says. “But it’s been a long time, and we’re different people now. I’m happy, and Al’s happy, and…I can live with that.”

*

Charlie watches the tapes. She’s too curious not to. She watches them in her room, away from everyone else, but when she returns the tapes to Al, she seems fine.

“So?” Alicia says when she gets a minute alone with Charlie. “What did you think of the tapes?” They’re busy tending to their crops, and Alicia knows her sunburn is getting worse the longer it takes Charlie to answer her.

“I think it’s a miracle you didn’t murder me when I was twelve,” Charlie snorts. She glances up at Alicia. “You should put some sunscreen on. Your face is getting super red.”

“But you’re okay?” Alicia presses.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alicia shrugs. “I can’t check in?”

“We should really be checking in with you,” Charlie retorts. “You’re suddenly okay with Al and Isabelle, like, living with us.”

“I’ve moved on,” Alicia informs her.

Charlie smirks. “Only took you ten years.”

“Hey! It did not. It was only, like, six. Or seven.”

Charlie shakes her head and retrieves the bottle of sunscreen off the back patio. She slaps the bottle into Alicia’s hand and says, “Thank me later.”

*

They’re all sitting together one night in the living room, three months after Al and Isabelle first crossed paths with Alicia and Wes in Oregon. It’s a quiet afternoon, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Al’s curled up on the couch with a book in her hand, her legs resting across Isabelle’s lap. Charlie’s sprawled out on the floor, in the middle of a game of chess with Strand, and even with Luci trying to help Strand cheat, Alicia knows Charlie will still beat the two of them. Alicia has a book of Sudoku puzzles sitting open on her lap as she shares the other couch with Wes, snoring away. And Alicia realizes –

She really is fine. Maybe she lied about it a couple times before, but she’s okay. She’s still happy. Al hasn’t destroyed Alicia’s happiness with her mere presence in Alicia’s life. And seeing Al and Isabelle exist together as a married couple doesn’t hurt Alicia the way seeing them together had hurt her when they’d crossed paths in Iowa.

It’s a strange revelation, and Alicia nearly drops her pencil at the thought. She built a family, built a home, even after losing so much. She built a life, against all odds.

“Cheater!” Strand shouts loud enough to wake Wes from his midafternoon nap.

“I’m not cheating!” Charlie insists.

“You are!” Luci accuses.

“You guys are just bad at chess!”

Alicia sets the Sudoku book aside, smiles to herself. She should intervene before Strand flips the board at Charlie and sends chess pieces flying.

*

It’s…their seventh month together? Eighth? Someone’s keeping track of time, but it isn’t Alicia, and she isn’t going inside to check their calendar. Strand and Wes ran into town to pick up a few supplies. Charlie and Al are throwing a football back and forth in the front yard. Luci’s on the other end of the backyard, fussing over some of their plants, while Alicia sits on the front porch, attempting to pay attention to her novel of the week.

The front door slams shut, and Isabelle motions toward the one empty chair and asks, “You mind?”

“Of course not.”

Isabelle takes a seat. They sit in silence for a while, watching Al and Charlie attempt to pelt each other with the football. Alicia’s just grateful they aren’t throwing a baseball instead. And though the silence between her and Isabelle isn’t uncomfortable, Alicia has a growing sense that there’s something Isabelle wants to say. Alicia really doesn’t spend much time alone with Isabelle.

“Everything okay?” Alicia finally prompts.

“Hmm?” Isabelle says, tearing her eyes away from her wife. “Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alicia says quickly. “I just thought – maybe there was something you wanted to talk about.”

Isabelle cracks a smile. “Not unless there’s something _you_ want to talk about.”

Alicia hesitates. “You’ve been here awhile now, and I – I think I owe you an apology for how I acted in Iowa.”

“Four years ago?” Isabelle says. She smiles softly. “Might as well be ancient history by now.”

“Still,” Alicia says. “I’m sorry. I was a – jerk, to say the least. And I was out of line. My anger was misplaced, and I definitely shouldn’t have –”

“We don’t have to do this,” Isabelle interrupts gently. “You and I are good. Al and I are good. And it seems like you and Wes are good. Our life here is good. We can just let it go.”

Alicia exhales heavily. “Okay.”

“It seems like it ended up being a good thing that you chose not to stay with us back then.”

“Things do seem to be working out, huh?” Alicia agrees.

“Yeah, well, if you ever change your mind – if you ever want us out –”

Alicia laughs. “I think it’s too late for that.”

The pickup truck comes into view, distracting Al just long enough for Charlie to seize the football and throw it straight into her stomach. Al still catches it.

“That’s it. I’m done,” Charlie announces. “Let’s play chess.”

Al tosses the football back to Charlie. “No way in hell, kid. Unless you want me to throw the board at you.”

Charlie smirks smugly. Luci emerges from the backyard to help unload the supplies, and Strand waits until everyone except Alicia is in the house before he motions for her to join him.

“You’re never going to believe what I found,” Strand says. Alicia raises her eyebrows, and Strand pulls an unopened bottle of whiskey out from underneath the driver’s seat. He hands it to Alicia as she grins.

“We’re going to have a fun night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I already feel like a bunch of you may not like this fic, which I can almost guarantee will be the last in this strange little series I created, but I am trying new things. I didn't want to keep Alicia miserable forever, but I didn't feel breaking up Al/Isabelle in order to force Al/Alicia for this story was right. I'd love to hear your thoughts - positive or negative - in the comments. I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this story myself.
> 
> Either way, thanks for reading! I will finish the last chapter of you're the only thing that i love (it scares me more every day) soon, and we'll go from there.


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